AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Instead of returning to my own room, I walk further down the hall to the guest room where Cat is staying and knock. I feel like I’m in a fog as I hear the creak of bedsprings, and her footsteps across the floor.
She opens the door in glasses a black band tee that hangs to her knees. Her expression falls. “What’s wrong?”
I burst into tears before I’ve even crossed the threshold.
ChapterThree
ROMAN
“You always were a good girl, Etta.”
I hear the words over and over in my head, picking them apart with growing disgust as I walk home. Gods, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Well, aside from the obvious, that is. What’s wrong with me tonight?
That’s the kind of thing you think, but don’t say out loud. At least, not without prompting. Not to a woman like Etta Capulet. A woman who’s impossibly out of reach. A woman who is—well, for lack of a better phrase, agoodgirl.
The air is sharp, and the cold burns my lungs. It’s only a three mile walk back to the apartment I share with Bennet. Any other time, I could run three miles with no difficulty. Tonight, it feels endless. It’s too cold to be walking without a jacket, even for me, but I don’t begrudge leaving Etta my coat. I also know I could technically fix my problem with very little effort—I spent years studying magic just like every other Order kid, and a warming rune would take no thought.
But I won’t.
I’d rather freeze to death than go back to relying on gods who neither listen nor give two shits about me. Who care only for power and those who can channel it, but don’t protect their most devout followers.
The gash above my eyebrow throbs in time with my heartbeat, like I’m being punished for my defiance.Yeah, I know. I could heal my eye, but fuck you—I’d rather let it bleed.
I knew it was stupid to let Tyberius Capulet goad me the moment the pain exploded across my face. Realized it a half second before, actually. Good thing too, or I’d be nursing a broken nose right now rather than a black eye. Capulet might be a worthless prick, but he’s got a decent right hook. Not better than mine, but good enough to be fun to spar with if I’m feeling self-loathing enough.Tonight, I was in just a dark enough mood to take his bait.
I reach my apartment building and gratefully duck inside, rubbing my cold hands together. It’s a luxury building with six elevators, and I dive into the first open one, punching the button for the top floor several times.
I tap my foot in the elevator, then stride quickly down the long empty hallway with the new paint smell before reaching the only door on the top level.
It takes me two tries to get the door to my apartment open with freezing cold hands, but finally I manage it. The door opens into an open concept apartment. The kitchen is modern, all stainless steel and dark granite kitchen, while the living room is full of leather furniture, most of it worn and showing the signs of heavy use. Huge windows along the back wall overlook the harbor, and the tops of the tall ships are still visible even at night. The walls are decorated with abstract expressionism paintings that I don’t have a fucking clue about, and ceiling-high bookshelves are covered with books—lots of books—each of which I’ve meticulously chosen and read ten times over.
Nothing in the apartment exactly screams “Warlocks afoot.” The only things left out in the open are my maps and pendulums, strewn across the coffee table, and the whiteboard in the kitchen, where Bennet tracks our stock investments by the positions of the planets. Today, Jupiter is in the second house. We won’t be trading today.
I don’t immediately notice Bennet sitting at the kitchen island, but I stop short when he clears his throat. “Where the fuck were you?”
Bennet is usually mild-mannered, especially compared to me. The outburst is unexpected. I raise my eyebrows, and then wince when my black eye throbs. “I walked. That okay with you?”
My cousin runs his hand through his dark hair, fixing angry brown eyes on me that remind me of my dad. Bennet and I look similar, I guess, but not the same. He’s shorter and more muscular than I am, with lighter hair. I’ve always thought it was a shame Bennet was born into an Order family, because he’s really built for extreme sports more than political dealings and obsessive academic one-upmanship. We are not a family that values participation in all American pastimes. We are a family that values the appearance of participating in all American pastimes.
“You couldn’t text me back? I thought you passed out or something,” he grips.
“I’m fine, man.”I grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and then make my way over to the liquor cabinet.
Bennet coughs loudly. “Should you be drinking?”
I reach for the nearest bottle. “It’s medicinal.”
“Just fix it.”
I fix him with a dark stare and take a large sip of my drink, and it burns my throat making my throbbing eye water. I scowl at the label.What the fuck is this?
Bennet sighs. His expression is somewhere between concern and vague disapproval. “Your funeral.”
Iblink at Bennet though one eye, as the other is streaming with tears and feels like it’s going to permanently swell shut. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He stands up and crosses to the counter, opening the pantry cabinet and pulling out a loaf of bread. “I have no opinion on your self-destructive phase.”
